


Generated Promptfic Blitz 3

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [32]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Crack, Crossover, Deathbed Promises, Drabble, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A third round of generated prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ketojan, Rage Demon - magical girl AU

“Foolish mortal! You cannot hope to defeat me!” roars the rage demon, a grotesque amalgam of fire and rending claws. Ket is but one  _saarebas_ before it, ill-equipped and ill-prepared.

But she has a secret thing, and she unveils it now, a pendant that flashes with an ancient power even the demon must recognise. And from her stitched lips, behind her heavy collar worn above sailor blouse and skimpy skirt, come the words that every Fade denizen has come to dread.

“Qun Prism Power! Make Up!”


	2. Malcolm, Marian - promises

Marian has always been the strong one: plucking Carver out of fights, defending Bethany from the ignorant and afraid, running to the doctor for Mother’s sake, drawing water from their well when the dew is on the grass to soothe Father’s fevers.

She never complains, even if her eyes flash with a spark of resentment or her knuckles clench white where she thinks they will not see. She remains dependable, because that is what they need.

“Stay strong for them, my girl,” Malcolm croaks on his deathbed, dwarfed by the covers and fading fast, though his bony grip is still firm and strong.

It’s the last thing she wants to do. But it’s also the last thing Father wants, and so she swallows her tears, holds her heart together and nods wordlessly.


	3. Orsino - forgotten dreams

Orsino had a dream, once. He’d dreamed that mages would walk safely through Kirkwall, certain in their place and certain that they had a role to play. He’d dreamed that templars and mages would achieve an understanding, if not someday a peace.

But over the years, blood and magic and lyrium pulled the dream to pieces, like a child crumbles a scab or wind erodes stone, and the world was revealed to him in all its warped and twisted glory. Succumbing to magic made you mad. Fighting against magic made you mad. And the last remnants of his dream disappeared with Meredith’s madness, sublimated in the flick of a blade as he drew blood and rage and hunger from his own skin. He turned himself into a nightmare. Perhaps even his own.


End file.
